After closing, Pria waited half an hour before leaving the closet and walking over to the Closed Stacks entrance. She extracted the highly illegal key from her caripouch, inserted it in the gate, and turned it slowly. She was sweating. If this weren’t a good copy, the alarm might go off. But finally it clicked and the gate swung open, without any alarms. She let her breath out in a rush. She replaced the key in her caripouch, took out a small electric light, and edged through the gate.
She wasn’t sure what to expect, but the area just inside the gate was disappointing, just more shelves of books. Most of the titles indicated religious topics, and some of them had red “Heresy” stickers. She moved on until she came to an open area with something in the middle.
As she crossed the open area, her little light let her see what was in the center. There was a sealed glass case with a book in it, a very old book, and below it a shelf with a row of newer books. Pria shined her light on the old book in the case and read “Log of U.S.S. Belvedere.” Strange, she thought, Belvedere is one of the Gods, but what do “Log” and “U.S.S.” mean? She looked at the row of books below and saw all had the same title, plus the legend “Authenticated Replica—Temple Use Only.” Acting on a hunch, she grabbed one and stuffed it in her caripouch, not noticing that as she did so, a slip of scribbled class notes fell out. She ran a hand back and forth across the row of bindings, spreading the remaining copies to hide the missing one.
A quick look around showed nothing else interesting, and the “Log” was an obvious prize. She moved back down the aisle and left the Closed Stacks, pulling the gate softly shut behind her. A prearranged path led down into the basement and out a delivery door with a disabled alarm. She quickly slipped through the shrubbery surrounding the Library and emerged on a walkway. She joined the crowd walking toward the dining hall, acting as natural as she could and trying not to think of the damning evidence of the stolen book in her caripouch.
Trip date 591.089, Captain Burns. We are approaching the star that the late Emergency Captain Jenner named “Pointe.” Neither Jenner nor Pointe survived the second coldsleep. The remainder of the crew is alive and has been awakened. The colonists are being left in coldsleep.
The astronomy team is searching for a planet in the habitable zone, and think they may have found one.
Trip date 591.097, Captain Burns. Dr. Frances of the astronomy team has confirmed that there is a planet in the habitable zone. He says it will be hot, but this may be good because of the variable nature of the star. He has confirmed Dr. Pointe’s conclusions, except that he feels a longer cool period is inevitable eventually. With the planet on the high edge of livable temperature, the chances that it will remain habitable in a cool period are much better.
I have named the planet “Jenner.”
Trip date 591.119, Captain Burns, in orbit around Jenner. The planet is mostly shallow seas, with one continent about the size of Australia and a lot of small islands, all near the equator. There is almost no axial tilt and no real seasons. There is only one tiny moon, which will not do much for tides. Several of the scientists suggest that the seas will be stagnant and quite smelly. They suggest we choose a landing spot well inland.
This planet is not as good as our original destination, but we don’t have a lot of choices. The coldsleep units, and the ship itself, are nearing the end of their planned service life. To go elsewhere would be suicide. I am giving the orders to land.
Trip date 591.121, Captain Burns, on the surface of Jenner. Belvedere has landed and will never leave. It is very hot outside, but livable. There are no dangerous animals, and Medical reports no dangerous allergens in the plant life, so I have started to wake the colonists. The major problem is heat stroke when people try to wear the standard colonist uniform. I have instituted clothing regulations—brief shorts for everyone, light halters for the women. A few tried to hold out and wear uniforms, but after they collapsed a second or third time, they gave up.
Jaso asked, “Did they catch you?”
She paused a moment, flustered, then started to tell him that it was some other girl. Halfway through, she saw it was hopeless to lie, and said, “No. I dropped some notes that narrowed it down to students in a particular Math class, but there are lots of sections and hundreds of students taking that class, so it didn’t help them much.”
“Okay,” he said. “Now, was the book you got worth the danger?”
“Oh, yes, it was.” She handed him some papers. “Here is a copy of part of it, with the best parts marked.” She settled back to wait as he took them and started to read.
Trip date 592.002, Captain Crawford, on the surface of Jenner. We held funeral services today for Captain Burns, who died of a severe allergic reaction to a plant. Nobody else has shown adverse reactions. I have named the settlement “Burns City,” up to now it was just called “the camp.”
We are starting to suffer from a shortage of cloth light enough to wear in this climate. Many of the colonists have decided that nudity is better than wearing rags or clothes that are too hot and have petitioned to have the dress regulations amended to permit it. I have to agree with them, and will issue the necessary orders.
Trip date 592.042, Captain Crawford, Burns City, planet Jenner. Children are now starting to be born, and wrappings and diapers for infants will require the entire remaining supply of light cloth. I have revised the dress code to mandate nudity for adults except for a few cases of medical necessity.
Trip date 592.081, Captain Crawford, Burns City. I am always amazed at the way the human mind works. Several would-be evangelists are now preaching that nudity is the only moral way of life and that we were brought to this world to throw off the sinful ways of our ancestors by throwing off our clothing. I’m sure most of the colonists will ignore this silliness.
Trip date 596.121, Captain Crawford. Today marks the fifth anniversary of the landing, and I am to turn command, no, make that leadership, of the colony over to the colonists. An election is being held to choose a leader. There has been much activity over the past few days around the Temple of “the Cult of Nudity” or whatever they call themselves. Today, many people have been marching from the Temple to the polling places, while relatively few of the other colonists are bothering to vote. I am a little worried about this…
Also, according to orders, today I decommission the ship. Except for the computer section, she is a hollow shell anyway. The computers will be left to form the nucleus of a school, with enough of the hull and bulkheads to form a few classrooms. The remainder will be dismantled to supply metal for the colony.
This is the final log entry. I declare the U.S.S. Belvedere decommissioned.
“So,” said Jaso, “the Cold is actually the result of our sun getting cooler for an extended period. Has your group at the University come up with any predictions on how long it will last?”
“No, nothing solid. Normally the cool periods last less than a day. But one researcher found evidence of day-long cool periods during the last fifty years, and that first Cold about five years back was a week-long cool period. Somebody did some curve fitting and said this one will last over a year.”
“A year? Ouch! It’s only been six months so far, hasn’t it? How cold is it going to get?”
“Well, we think we’ve pretty near hit bottom. There won’t be more than a few more degrees drop before it stabilizes. The sun isn’t getting any cooler, just staying cool longer. We think, we hope, that we’ve stabilized and just have to hang on for another six or eight months. Provided the Temple doesn’t give us too much trouble…” Her voice trailed off, and she looked around again. “This place is isolated and quite far away from the Temple for anyone not wearing clothes. If there is trouble, can a bunch of us hide out here?”
“I take it you expect trouble, then. Certainly, Pria. I’ll give you and your friends whatever help I can. Even if I’ll have to get used to the indecent sight of people wearing those…clothes. Bring them out whenever you have to. But bring food and suppl
ies. I haven’t been able to get out much, so I don’t have a great reserve.”
“Oh, of course we’ll bring food and stuff. And by the way, I brought out an extra suit—that’s what we call them—for you to wear so you aren’t totally trapped in the house. You can get used to wearing it in private, so you won’t be so embarrassed.”
“Well, thanks for your confidence in me,” said Jaso sarcastically. “I think I can manage.” He took the suit Pria gave him and sat there examining it for a minute. He hesitated, and finally asked, “What are these made from, and where do you get it?”
“You’re sitting on it,” she replied. When he looked puzzled, she continued, “The upholstery material of that chair you’re sitting in. That, and curtains. It was curtains that started it. Some students started getting cold at night, there wasn’t any heat, so they pulled down the curtains and covered themselves in bed. Then they started wearing curtains wrapped around themselves during the day, and pretty soon, the idea of making clothes the shape of the body occurred to someone. Now we use both curtain material and other upholstery cloth.”
Jaso nodded as he heard the story, and sat there holding the suit, lost in thought, as Pria said goodbye and let herself out.
It took Pria a little longer to get back to the University than she had expected, as there were more patrols out. The Chief Templar must have called up the reserves, she thought.
After dodging through the streets, she reached the University, only to find the quarters of her research group in turmoil. She grabbed her friend Yuri and asked, “What’s going on here?”
“You don’t know? Where have you been? Archo has brought charges of blasphemy and heresy against the entire University. He’s hoping someone will finger us in return for immunity, and he’s probably right. Our only chance is to get out before he can pinpoint our group and send in enough Proctors to overwhelm us. I don’t know where we’re going, but we’re going to leave after dark when the Cold gives us more of an advantage.”
“Who’s in charge? Mik?” she asked. “I have a place for us to go. We’ll have to take as much food as we can, but it’s a good spot. It’s isolated, and a long walk in the Cold.”
“Great, Pria. Yeah, go tell Mik.”
Pria went over to the people gathered near Mik and joined the conversation. When she told them she had a place to go, there were cheers and sighs of relief. She filled them in on where they were going and went off to pack her own gear. She returned twenty minutes later, just as the group was ready to leave. Mik insisted that she join the leaders since she knew the route better than anyone else.
Suddenly there was a banging on the doors, and a voice rang out. “Proctors! In the name of the Temple you are all under arrest.”
As the doors burst open, it was obvious there were too many Proctors to fight, and Mik signaled the group to surrender. The few who were actually carrying weapons laid them down slowly and carefully, not anxious to provoke firing from the armed Proctors. The dissidents were quickly rounded up and hustled into vans. Apparently the Proctors’ orders had said nothing about their clothing, and Pria was grateful she was allowed to keep hers as they drove through the frigid night in the vans, which were walled with nothing more than a wire mesh.
Their destination was not the regular city jail, but the Temple dungeons. There were few formalities observed, no booking, no lawyers. They were split up, the men in one wing and the women in another, their clothing was removed, and they were thrown into cells.
Pria made friends with a few of the guards. Occasionally one of these, a woman named Maiata, brought news of what was happening outside. As Maiata served their supper one evening, she said, “You people are in a lot of trouble. Chief Templar Archo is drumming up hatred for you. He wants the populace against you when you come to trial. He’s even distorting the news.”
“How do you mean, distorting?”
“Well, there was a family that was found dead one morning, caught out overnight. Word we got in the barracks was that they were a really pious family, no more likely to wear those ‘clothes’ of yours than to spit in the eye of one of the Gods. But the news that got out implied, didn’t say outright, mind you, that they had been wearing ‘clothes,’ that they were blasphemers.”
“That’s terrible. But wait a minute, you said they died just from being out overnight? Has it gotten colder?”
“Yes. Even the Proctors seldom go out at night. There are rumors about other deaths, but the news reports only those that Archo sees as favorable.”
The weeks passed slowly, until they had spent a month in the dungeons. Then one morning, they were taken out of their cells after breakfast and marched up the stairs into the Temple. Their trial was about to start.
The prisoners were penned in a cage at one side of the temple. A large dais had been set up in front of the altar, with seats for the Templars and a throne in the center for Archo. The Templars were to be both prosecutors and judges. The audience was full, with people standing in the aisles, and others in the doorways trying to see in. Pria spotted Jaso sitting near the front, and he gave her a quick smile of encouragement.
A guard came over and told the group to select a spokesperson. They were given little time, so the choice defaulted to Mik, the leader of the abortive exodus.
Mik was taken out of the cage, led in front of the dais, and forced by the guards to bow to Archo. The Chief Templar read the charges. The list was long, but very repetitious. Pria listened carefully, and decided it all boiled down to blasphemy and failure to comply with the sacred writings.
When Archo finished the list, he said to Mik, “How do you plead?”
Mik stood there a moment, and then said, “We plead not guilty by reason of necessity. If we do not do these things, many will die.”
“Insufficient!” thundered the Chief Templar. “The ways of the Gods are mysterious, and no man may say what is necessary or not in Their eyes. Your plea is refused. Have you another?”
Mik answered, “We have read the sacred writing, ‘Log of Belvedere,’ and in it we saw the reason for not covering the body was due to the heat. As it is no longer hot, the writing needs to be reinterpreted, and we plead not guilty.”
“Insufficient!” thundered the Chief Templar again. “The Council of Templars alone is able to interpret the writings of the Gods, and we do not choose to change our interpretation. And having read the ‘Log’ is forbidden and is part of the charges, not part of the defense. This plea too is refused. You have one more chance.”
Mik stood silent, trying to think of something else. Damn, thought Pria, he’s a good leader, but not too great on ideas. If somebody doesn’t think of something…Suddenly a thought dawned. She rose quickly to her feet and called, “Chief Templar Archo! I wish to speak!”
The Chief Templar looked at her and said, “Do you wish to deny your chosen spokesperson?”
“No, Your Worship, but my life is on the line here too, and I wish to assist him.”
Archo nodded, and the guards let her out of the cage and led her over to stand next to Mik.
Archo looked her over, and said, “Your spokesperson here has tried twice to plead not guilty, and his reasons have been found insufficient each time. Your group has one more chance. Do you wish to use it, and do your fellow prisoners agree to let you do so?”
Pria looked over at the cage, and saw everyone nodding at her, or giving a thumbs-up gesture. She turned back to the throne. “Your Worship, I plead not guilty. Using your own words, I say that the ways of the Gods are mysterious. I disagree, however, with the other thing you said, that only the Council of Templars can interpret the wishes of the Gods. I say that even the Council is human, subject to mistakes, and that only the Gods themselves are above error. Therefore I challenge you to let the Gods themselves decide this matter!”
There was a collective gasp from the audience, and then silence. Archo looked at Pria, and at the audience. An astute politician, he could sense that the crowd would revolt at an attempt to
refuse this girl.
He drew a deep breath and said, “State your challenge.”
Pria spoke in a loud, clear voice that carried throughout the entire temple. “It is said that I have blasphemed by covering my body with clothes. If this is truly blasphemy, then it would be blasphemy multiplied to do so in the Sacred Courtyard behind the Temple.” She gestured at the wall behind the altar. “And yet someone truly blessed by the Gods, such as the Chief Templar, would receive their protection many times over on such hallowed ground. So,” she said, turning again to face Archo, “I challenge you to spend the night with me in the Sacred Courtyard, I wearing the clothes you so despise, and you naked as your sacred writings dictate. Let the Gods decide!” She finished with a flourish.
There was silence for a moment, and then a roar went up from the crowd. Archo pounded on the floor with his staff for several minutes before he could speak. He could see he had no choice.
“It shall be as you ask. We two will spend the night in the Courtyard. Tomorrow, when the Gods have struck you down, I will condemn your fellows to death. Guards, take the prisoners back to the dungeon. And escort this one—” he pointed at Pria “—to the storeroom where the clothes were put.”
At sundown Pria was led, fully clothed, to the gate of the Courtyard. The guards pushed her through, not wanting even to be close to such a blasphemous act. Archo entered through the opposite gate, signaling to his escort to stop outside. He looked at Pria, then looked around to be sure that only the two of them were actually in the Courtyard, and then gave the order for the gates to be shut at both entrances.
The Courtyard was surrounded by high stone walls. With the solid iron gates shut, it was isolated from the world. Archo walked to the small open area in the middle, and gestured for Pria to approach.
“Well, foolish one,” he said, “you come to the last night of your life. And tomorrow all your friends die, too. It was a valiant try, for nothing else you could have said would have spared you, but it too was futile.”
Worlds Away and Worlds Aweird Page 8
